


Lane Six, If You Would

by sphekso



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Beverly Lives, Bowling Alleys, Fluff, Hannibal Bowling Alley Manager, Heck yeah Bev, M/M, Pretty pointless but fun, Will FBI Agent, bowling, tags tags tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphekso/pseuds/sphekso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bev drags Will to a bowling alley to blow off some steam between cases, and to his surprise he finds himself bowled over even more than the pins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lane Six, If You Would

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I haven't posted in like a week and I half so I knocked this out. I might continue it if there's interest. Bon appetit!

The scent of floor-wax hit Will’s nostrils as soon as the bowling alley’s automatic doors slid open. He paused for a moment to take in the sights. Some of the lanes were visible from the entrance. An enthusiastic group of college kids dominated the middle lane, rowdy and sipping beer from plastic cups that they must have gotten from the bar running along the left side of the entry.

“I’m starving,” Bev said. “Let’s get some grub first.”

Will nodded. He was a little overwhelmed by the high level of activity and chatter in the bowling lanes. He glanced at the menu above the counter. “Hot dogs, burgers, and fries. It’s very all-American,” he said.

“Don’t get freaked, but the hot dogs are made with real dog meat.”

Will shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“Yeah, well, that’s why you like me, isn’t it?” She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets. “Shit. I left my wallet at home. Can you spot me for a burger and a beer? I’ll pay you back.”

Will was sure she’d forget about it, but he liked the idea of treating his friends every now and then, and Bev was the closest thing he’d ever had to a real friend. “No need,” he said, reaching for his credit card.

“Packing plastic, huh? I guess it’s better than packing heat in a place like this.”

“Why would I bring a gun to a bowling alley?”

“Exactly,” Bev said. “We’re off duty. Now buck up and get us some burgers.”

Will opted for a generous basket of bacon cheese fries instead of a burger. They set their trays on a table near the lanes and sat down where they could watch. One of the college kids got a strike, and his team erupted in cheers. A clearly bottle-blonde girl wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long kiss when he got back to them.

Bev rolled her eyes so hard Will was surprised they didn’t spin out of their sockets. She waved her hand at them dismissively. “Greeks, all of them. I can’t stand bros and sorority girls. So obnoxious.” She waited a beat. “Hey, are you gonna eat all those?”

Will looked down at her tray to find her burger had miraculously disappeared. He’d barely touched his fries. “You can keep them,” he said, “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Hey,” she said, gesturing with a dripping fry, “would you get us some shoes and a lane while I finish these?”

“Sure,” he replied. “What size do you use?”

“What size do I use?” She popped the fry into her mouth and sucked a little cheese from her finger. “Oh, it’s about seven inches, and pretty thick. Vibrates, too, and it’s a nice, jaunty shade of purple. I doubt you’d get much out of it.”

“I’m not hearing this,” he said. “What _shoe_ size do you wear?”

“Seven.”

“Bev, stop talking about your dildo and—“

She threw her head back in laughter. Bev was all smiles, all laughter, all the time. She even had a permanent smirk on her face while she was at crime scenes. “I’m not talking about my vibrator anymore. I’m a shoe size seven, too.”

He shook his head again and headed off for the shoe counter. Racks of bowling shoes lined the walls behind the counter. One wall bore a scuffed wooden door, which presumably led to the office. The manager seemed to be inside. A little brass bell sat on the counter next to a note reading _Ring for service_ , so Will tapped the top and winced at the sharp trill of the bell.

“Coming,” someone yelled from the office. A man’s voice.

Will drummed his fingers on the counter and looked back over to their table. Bev was missing. She must’ve gone to use the ladies’, he thought. He brought his attention back to the door when he heard it creak open.

“Apologies,” the manager said, his voice accented and, Will thought, far too cultured for a mere bowling alley manager. “I was distracted by a good book. May I help you?”

Will froze up. The man before him must’ve been ten years his senior, but something about him was immediately arresting. Maybe it was his razor-sharp cheekbones, or his full lips, or the way his tight eyes curiously appraised him, but there was _something_ special about his looks. And on top of that voice…

“I said: may I help you?”

“Uh…” Will fumbled for words. He’d gotten tunnel vision looking at the man’s face, but as it faded he noticed his nametag: _Hannibal_. “I’m Will,” he said, as if Hannibal had introduced himself in the first place. Which, of course, he had not.

Hannibal raised his brows. “Hello, Will,” he said.

Will just about melted hearing him speak his name in his delectable accent. “I… um… I’m here for… shit.”

“You’re here for shit?” Hannibal asked. “I’m afraid you’ll have to look to your innards for that. I deal in shoes.”

“That’s—that’s what I meant. I’m here for shoes.”

“How many pairs? Sizes?”

“Two,” Will replied. “Men’s ten and, um… women’s seven.” He could barely get the words out. He felt like a stupid teenager. The more he looked at Hannibal, the more he saw the subtle twitches and movements of his expression, the harder and harder it was to focus on the task at hand.

“Two pair? Men’s and women’s? Pity,” Hannibal said, but he’d turned away to the shoe rack before Will could surmise exactly what he’d meant by that.

“Pity?”

Hannibal returned with the shoes. He smiled, and Will felt like he might die. “I wouldn’t normally say this to a customer, but…” He tipped his chin up a bit. “You’re an attractive man. I hope that doesn’t offend.”

Will looked aside. His cheeks burned. “It definitely doesn’t,” he said.

“You seem new to this,” Hannibal said. “Am I correct in that assumption?”

“To bowling, or flirt—“ Will caught himself, but with the first syllable out there was no denying what he’d intended to say.

Hannibal gently placed the shoes on the counter. “Either one.”

When Will turned his gaze back to him, his expression had changed completely. His face bore an odd combination of affection and hunger that Will had never seen on another person. It was intoxicating. “Both, I suppose,” Will said.

“I can help, you know.”

“With either one?”

Hannibal’s smile grew. It was almost reptilian objectively, but in that moment it was subjectively stunning. “Yes, Will. With either one. But, tell me, what of the lady?”

“She’s just a friend.”

“That’s happy news,” Hannibal said.

“Do you do this often?” Will asked. “Hit on customers?”

Hannibal pursed his delicious lips. “Why, do I seem sleazy to you? No, you’re the first.”

Will pushed his glasses up on his nose, even though they didn’t need it. “Why—“

“God, what’s taking so long?” Bev said, coming up from behind. She looked between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Maybe,” Will said. “Is she?”

Hannibal moved the shoes closer to them. “I think you two will be bowling for free tonight. Lane six, if you would. And Will?”

“Y-yeah?”

“You might want to check your left shoe.” He winked, sending an electric shock through Will’s body, then disappeared back into the office.

“What was that about?” Bev asked.

“You’re as confused as I am,” Will said honestly.

“Well?” she prodded. “Check the shoe.”

He reached inside and came up with a yellow sticky note. He unfolded it. His eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath.

Bev craned her neck to look over his shoulder. “Damn,” she said.

“Yeah, damn is right.”

 

_Call me for a private lesson._

“So now that we’ve gotten _that_ over with,” Bev said with another epic eye roll, “let’s hit the lanes.”

Will stood rooted to the spot, staring at the little post-it. He took out his phone and made a new contact— _Bowling Hannibal_ —and added the number from the note.

“Earth to Will? Will Graham? C’mon, we’ve got some pins to knock down.”

Will swallowed and returned the phone to his pocket along with the sticky note. “Right,” he said, hoping he sounded confident. “Let’s wreck some pins.” But his mind was somewhere else entirely. _Let’s wreck some pins like I want Hannibal to wreck me_. He chuckled in spite of himself.

“You’re _so_ weird,” Bev said, took her shoes, and left him there.

He watched her leave, but he wasn’t quite ready to bowl just yet. The high _ting_ of the bell split his ears once again.

_Ring for_ _service_ , indeed.


End file.
